cronechronicler

Many days I feel there is no poetry in the world to explore. The pink stripes in the sky will reappear with Winter. What will they say to me? The patio has gone through its Autumn transformation. The iron furniture has been stored and the pool is empty. Summer was not the same with endless days when the thermometer hit 90. I don’t mind that it is over. Spring is a distant memory.

Four years ago I wrote of my magical experience watching acres of tulip bulbs being plowed under after they bloomed in the Spring. The soft brown fallow fields shared with me their wisdom. Though the fields were bare they were rich with everything necessary to nurture tulips next season. I felt the pull of being fallow. I wanted to empty my life of all that had busied it and let what was already within me bear fruit. I found freedom and an unexpected gift. I could write poetry.

After moving to be near my family, the new roots I put down have taken firm hold. Life at the Greenbriar is good. I believed I was settled-in once and for all. Now the world has changed in ways I have no words to describe. I’ve stepped back to take a longer view. My mind is awakening to old histories and possibilities of new hope for our future. Once more being fallow will allow me room to grow.

A small miracle happened Sunday while we celebrated World Wide Communion at church. The last hymn of the service was “We Are Walking in the Light of God”, an African Freedom Song. The last verse of the hymn reads “We are dancing in the light of God”. As we sang people began to move about. A friend pulled me from my pew. She and I began to dance in the aisle, making it up as we went along. Other people gave us space. I think they were amazed that two seasoned women were so uninhibited. When the music stopped she and I couldn’t stop laughing. I still feel the glow. The world has surprises I never imagined happening when I am alive to the moment. My new way of being fallow dances to a different beat.